


Tit For Tat

by Commander_Freddy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Breast Fucking, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Marathon Sex, Married Life, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22817341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commander_Freddy/pseuds/Commander_Freddy
Summary: After nearly 5 years of marriage, no one could doubt Hubert's dedication to his husband, the man in question least of all. Still, Ferdinand cannot help but wish his husband was a little more vocal about his own wants, considering the undeniable fervour of his desire.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 21
Kudos: 377





	Tit For Tat

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is several thousand words of buildup to a titfucking (a subspecies of fucking in which this ship tag is oddly lacking).  
> The structure is porn-plot-porn because Ferdibert hits two of my interests: extreme horniness and political reform.  
> Giddy-up.

Ferdinand groaned, burying his sweaty forehead in a pillow already destroyed by saliva and a desperate grip. There was nothing he loved more about Hubert than his dedication, but one day it would be the death of him. And if Hubert didn’t pull his tongue out of Ferdinand’s ass and stop attempting to wring a _fourth_ consecutive orgasm out of him, that day would be a lot sooner than Ferdinand had hoped.

“Hubert,” he moaned, but of course that did nothing because he had been saying little else for the past hour or so.

One of the leather gloved hands at his ass kneaded at the soft flesh, drawing out yet another breathy gasp from Ferdinand. Goddess, how did he even still have breath to give? For that matter, how did Hubert? He’d lovingly tugged the regalia from his husband’s body and pressed him into the mattress ages ago, and he had never really come up for air since. Certainly, he didn’t seem to be giving any attention to himself, unless his tongue was talented enough to distract Ferdinand from the sounds of a fervent handjob. Although, as Ferdinand’s periodically blanking vision attested, that might be the case.

“Fuck, _fuck_!”

Ferdinand whined high and loud as Hubert sucked hard at his perineum, his teeth grazing the muscle just firm enough to send Ferdinand’s back bowing. He was exhausted, dehydrated, his hair was sweaty enough to have knotted itself into several different birds’ nests, and yet he still couldn’t bring himself to call Hubert off. No matter how much it ached, how his dick pressed furious and flushed between his hipbone and the mattress, the knowledge that it was all a reward for him was enough to have him preening. No one else in the world got fucked like this, by Hubert von Adrestia’s long tongue, bony fingers digging into muscle hard enough to leave his fingerprints in bruises.

“Gorgeous,” Hubert breathed. And though Ferdinand flinched at the feel of cold breath against his spit-soaked hole, he couldn’t help but arch his back and press himself back toward Hubert at the compliment.

He’d been getting compliments all evening, from some of the most important people in Fódlan, for a project he’d spent years of his time and effort on, but there was nothing like being complimented by Hubert. No matter how many pre-, mid-, and post-coital confessions he enjoyed, no matter how many double-encrypted love letters he received, no matter how many times Hubert casually presented him as “my illustrious husband”, part of Ferdinand was always 23 and flabbergasted, sitting at the tea table with Hubert, surrounded by his first compliments and sporting an incredibly confused but nonetheless ardent erection.

“I love you,” he moaned into the pillow as Hubert bit down hard on the meat of his ass.

There was a pause, Hubert’s mouth pulling back, and Ferdinand braced himself for teasing. Instead what he got was a phrase expelled with such knee-jerk force it was as if Hubert had vomited it.

“I adore you,” he rasped against the back of Ferdinand’s thigh.

Ferdinand’s voice caught in his throat, lodged somewhere between his breath and his heart.

“You,” he managed, “Tonight, you…”

He trailed off as Hubert sucked a mark into the junction between his ass and his thigh, all loving tongue and harsh teeth.

“I told you,” said Hubert, once again setting Ferdinand quivering under cold air, “Anything you want.” He kneaded Ferdinand’s other ass cheek hard enough to set him grinding against the mattress. “You deserve it.”

Ferdinand felt his thoughts slip as Hubert’s tongue returned to his hole, licking harsh up into him as his hands dug into soft flesh, spreading him open and playing with him all at once. There was an argument he wanted to make, at least to himself, but he couldn’t quite remember what it was. Something about the gala? Drool was leaking out the corner of his mouth now, but he hardly noticed it. The gala… that had been lovely. Everyone dressed to the nines to celebrate the opening of his political academy, free tuition for all students, open to everyone from the privately tutored sons of barons to the peasant children learning letters in the husks of what had once been churches before Ferdinand had gotten his hands on them. What a delight it had been to see the sweat beneath the too-starched collars of the old nobility as they realised their positions were now open season to commoners who were infinitely more suited to the job, while at the same time relishing in the genuine praise of people he actually cared about.

And Hubert had stood by him all night, quiet and refined in that dashing black coat with the ever-so-narrow waist and a strong hand on his hip-

Ferdinand cried out as that same hand on that same hip pulled him back for a deeper lick.

Hubert had seemed a little out of sorts all evening, so quiet and thoughtful, and Ferdinand had missed his wit. Until they had gotten back to their chambers, of course, and Hubert had fallen to his knees and declared himself so proud, so unabashedly _admiring_ of Ferdinand and everything he had accomplished that he would do absolutely anything his husband asked. Ferdinand would have thought it a little silly, another symptom of his husband’s charmingly ridiculous dramatic streak, if it wasn’t so obvious how painfully aroused Hubert was. So instead of laughing, Ferdinand had stepped forward, cupped the back of Hubert’s head in his hands and led him forward, challenging him to “do his worst” with that famously sharp tongue of his.

One should never challenge Hubert von Adrestia if they are not prepared to deal with the consequences.

Ferdinand screamed, there was no other word for it, as Hubert bit down on the outer edge of his hole. His hands were claws in their sheets and his feet flexed as Hubert did not let him go, pulled back with his bite and a heavy grunt, only to return with his tongue licking deep into Ferdinand.

“Please!” Ferdinand sobbed, unsure of what exactly he was asking for. “Hu- _bert_ …” he whined.

Hubert groaned into him, an awkward kind of motion that suggested an aborted thrust pushing his face even deeper into Ferdinand’s ass.

“This not enough for you?” Hubert growled, giving a sharp slap to Ferdinand’s cheeks.

Ferdinand gasped, rutting forward against the bed in a way that only made his oversensitive erection hurt even more.

“Please!” he cried again.

“What do you want, darling?” Hubert asked, gasping against his skin. “Anything you want, all yours.”

Ferdinand sobbed at the urgency in his voice, at how _desperate_ Hubert was to make him cum, as if he hadn’t been lavishing him with his tongue for over an hour. Some reckless, horny part of his brain was begging for Hubert to get his dick out, to fuck him properly, but the sheer discomfort of his current erection was enough to alert Ferdinand that no, maybe direct thrusts to his prostate was not what he wanted at the moment.

“Hurts,” he moaned, helping no one.

“Want me to stop?” Hubert asked, his thumbs rubbing circles into his cheeks.

“No!” Ferdinand cried and Hubert gave a little laugh. “Just wanna cum,” he groaned, pressing his face into the crook of his elbow.

“Yeah?” panted Hubert, his thumbs firmer against Ferdinand’s flesh. “Want me to suck you off?”

Ferdinand whined, nodding, but made no move to roll over. If Hubert was going to manhandle him he may as well _keep_ manhandling him. His husband laughed, low and loving, as he sat back on his knees and gently manipulated Ferdinand onto his back. Ferdinand was out of breath in an instant. Even the simplest touch, hands to the side of his stomach, soft and steady, was enough to have him gasping. All these years later and he still felt like that same repressed nobleman whimpering with desire as he fell to his knees before Hubert, cumming hard in his pants after giving a rather pedestrian blowjob. But it was nothing compared to the sensation of Hubert’s tongue on him. Hot and wet and entirely too much, he groaned out a mess of noises, high and low and voice splitting.

Hubert took his head in his mouth and that was it, just one hard suck and Ferdinand was losing himself, gasping and bucking hard as he came dry, having already spent himself raw. His throat stung with the intensity of his whines as he came down, vision fading as he melted into the pillows.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Hubert was murmuring. “Fuck, you’re good.”

Ferdinand rolled his tongue around his own mouth, trying to remember how to feel his body. His fingers flexed against his chest, too tired to reach out for Hubert but still desperate to hold his husband against his chest as sleep lapped at the edges of his brain. He wasn’t sure if that was Hubert he could hear panting, or himself.

“Fuck,” Hubert muttered again.

No, that was definitely Hubert panting.

Ferdinand forced his eyes to blink open, and then couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight above him. Hubert, still mostly dressed, with dick in hand and face flushed nearly purple. His lovely coat may have been abandoned, but his dress shirt was still on, buttoned tight against his sweaty chest and rucked up awkwardly above his waistline as he jacked himself off with an intensity that was frankly concerning. His suspenders had slipped off one shoulder to get caught around his elbow, his gloves were still on – if shinier with more than just the texture of the leather – and his unbuttoned trousers were threatening to slip all the way down his bony thighs to pool at his knees.

“You’re gorgeous.”

Hubert laughed.

“I mean it,” said Ferdinand. “I really do.”

Hubert met his eyes, and for a second the genuine vulnerability in his gaze split Ferdinand in two.

“Let me-” Ferdinand began, reaching a hand out, but Hubert shook his head and kept fucking his fist.

“No darling, just lie back,” Hubert replied. “You’re so tired…”

“Want to rub off on me?” Ferdinand asked, flopping back like his husband had asked. He let his fingers play with his own chest hair. “You could cum on my tits…”

“Shit,” gasped Hubert, and came hard into his hand.

Ferdinand laughed in sheer delight, biting his lip as he watched his husband shudder. Hubert always looked so good as he came. Bright flush, sweaty hair, his expression unguarded for once.

“Come here,” Ferdinand said the second Hubert lifted his head from where it had been bowed, reaching for him with grabbing hands.

“I’m sticky,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’m much worse,” said Ferdinand.

Hubert could never resist him – not normally, and especially not freshly-fucked and laughing. He dropped his head to where it belonged, resting against Ferdinand’s soft chest and exhaled low and long. As he nuzzled against the heavy weight of his breast, Ferdinand couldn’t help a sly smile.

He sure had cum fast after that suggestion, hadn’t he? Perhaps that would be useful information to remember, considering how reticent Hubert was to voice his desires in the bedroom. He was very much a man of service, his husband, and tonight had been nothing if not an exhibition of that fact. Perhaps it would only be fitting to repay that long-held dedication with some of his own. But now was not the time for planning. Now was only for pulling the suspenders from a grumbling Hubert’s shoulders and leaning into the vice grip of his cuddle as the two drifted to sleep.

* * *

Hubert awoke to a knocking at the door so startling that for a second he was back in the war and they were under attack again. But no, bolting upright only had him facing the gauzy light of dawn spilling through his chambers in Enbarr, illuminating his and Ferdinand’s side-by-side desks, and the pile of Prime Ministerial regalia on the floor, where he had begun ravishing his husband last night.

“What?” he barked at the closed door.

Beside him, Ferdinand was stirring, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Prime Minister, you have several messages from the College of Political Arts,” came the voice of a page through the door.

Ferdinand grumbled into his fist before raising his voice to call,

“Anything urgent?”

There was an awkward pause as Hubert imagined the young servant shifting back and forth.

“They’re all urgent, Your Excellency,” he replied.

“Shit,” mumbled Ferdinand. And then, as the reality of the situation seemed to hit him, “Shit!”

Hubert reached out, intending to comfort him somehow, but Ferdinand was already rolling away.

“Tell them I’ll be right there!” he called to the page.

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

And then Ferdinand tried to swing his legs out of the bed, only to let out a loud hiss of pain.

“Fuck, Hubert!” he muttered. “Did you really have to go so hard the night before the first day of classes?”

Hubert swallowed hard, willing the bed to fold up around him.

“I… Sorry.”

Ferdinand didn’t seem to hear him, lurching as he was toward their closet to pull something vaguely presentable on. Hubert wasn’t sure where to look. If he had somehow ruined Ferdinand’s plans for his academy by fucking him too hard, he’d never be able to live with himself. He’d have to go into hiding. Ferdinand would be able to fix whatever problems may have arisen – Ferdinand could fix anything – but the shame of letting down his husband would never be erased.

Hubert pushed out of bed, headed toward the closet.

“Ferdinand-” he began, but his husband was already rushing out, tying his cravat as he went.

“I’ll see you later!” Ferdinand called as he pushed out the door, gone in an instant.

Hubert stood alone in their quarters, still dressed in his rumpled shirt and pants from the evening before. He scratched his left forearm, and then sighed.

Nothing for it – there was no way he would be able to stomach his regular tasks while Ferdinand was hard at work fixing issues he _should_ have been awake and ready for, had it not been for Hubert. He would simply have to go down to the college and help out.

Ferdinand’s hand-picked Chair of the college did not seem surprised at all to see Hubert waiting in her office doorway, although the poor woman looked so exhausted that maybe she just didn’t have the energy for expressions anymore.

“Good morning, Minister,” she said from behind a frankly ridiculous mountain of envelopes.

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

“Got a spell to turn back time?” asked the Chair in reply.

Hubert winced.

“Afraid not,” he said.

The Chair sighed, burying her face in the arms crossed on her desk.

“Then I’m afraid all I can ask is that you help us with the administrative bungle of the century,” she said.

“Of course. What… happened?”

She rubbed the space between her brows as she winced. The gesture reminded Hubert rather a lot of himself. Now that he thought about it, so did the rest of the Chair, with her dark hair and high cheekbones and long fingers. He wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about that, considering Ferdinand himself had appointed her. Flattered?

“The information packages for the students have been completely mixed up,” she said, bringing Hubert back to actually important matters. “I don’t think a single envelope has the information intended for the student it’s addressed to.” She sighed as she slapped a pile of envelopes. “Their class schedules, their houses, their academic advisors, their _room keys_ … All in the wrong envelopes. And not even grouped _consistently_.” She shook her head. “Ferdinand is out in the quad with a full student list trying to organise them into houses so they can get to their homerooms at least, the insane man, but nothing’s going to be sorted until we get everything in order and distributed to the students.”

Hubert bowed low, relief coursing in his ears. Thank the Goddess and all of her wretched children: a straightforward task, at last.

“Please, allow me to do the busywork. I am sure you would be infinitely more use in organising what to do with the students in the interim, than stuffing envelopes.”

The Chair smiled at him, wide and genuine.

“Minister, really, that is entirely too generous-”

“It is not,” Hubert insisted gently as he rounded her desk. “I would not be able to live with myself if my husband’s dream was tarnished by something as mundane as misplaced keys. Please. Allow me to do what I can to help him.”

The Chair’s smile softened, becoming a little wistful.

“Where would the Empire be without you two?” she asked. And then pushed her chair out from behind her desk. “Very well – I accept your most gracious offer, but please, remember that I am in your debt.”

Hubert smiled, knowing full well he could never call a favour in from her, after all the work she had put into ensuring the happiness of his husband and, really, all of Fódlan.

“Of course.”

There was nothing Hubert found more relaxing than mindless organisational tasks. They were the first sort of duties he had performed for Lady Edelgard as children, and some deep part of him knew that he would be carefully arranging her bookshelves until he was old and grey. So he was not surprised in the least to find the rest of the world fading away as he plonked himself in the Chair’s seat and set about carefully unsealing envelopes. The room was silent without conversation, only the quiet snick of a letter opener pushing aside wax and the jingle of room keys cutting through the stillness. And, somewhere in the distance, the soft sounds of a crowd milling outside. Hubert smiled despite himself. How Ferdinand intended to handle a giant crowd of impatient student with only a list and his charisma was beyond him, but it might not be beyond Ferdinand. If anyone could make this work, he could.

Snick, jingle, shuffle.

Snick, jingle, shuffle.

And the hours fell by. But so too did the pile of envelopes, until Hubert was left with watering eyes and a new mountain of information packages, each properly organised at last. He sighed, leaning back in the chair, letting his eyes close for a moment. He should get up, tell someone – the Chair or another staff member, as there was no way he’d be able to tear Ferdinand from his beloved student body – that he’d finished, but his mind was so washed out it was hard to pull together the brainpower needed to move.

The sound of the door opening filled the room and Hubert scrunched his eyes. Okay, he just had to sit up, tell whoever it was who was here that he’d finished-

“Hubert!”

His eyes snapped open to see Ferdinand bent over him, that great mane of gold framing a face agape in a kind of uncomprehending wonder. Hubert relaxed, a smile spreading across his face.

“Hello, darling,” he said. “I’ve just finished fixing up the information packages.”

Ferdinand blinked, and for a moment Hubert wondered if he’d done something wrong. And then there was a blur of movement and Hubert found himself caught up in the filthiest kiss of his life, Ferdinand’s hands gripping the back of his head like he was holding on for his life, his tongue licking deep into Hubert’s mouth and teeth coming down to scrape against Hubert’s tongue with a ferocity Hubert could not comprehend. He couldn’t help the aching moan that escaped him at the sensation, or the grunt of surprised delight as Ferdinand climbed into his lap.

“I take it you’re pleased?” he said with a breathless laugh.

Ferdinand fixed him with a look, all darkness and desire behind those pretty brown eyes.

“Hubert von Adrestia, I owe you my life.”

Hubert felt his stomach clench at the weight of his words. It sounded just as genuine an oath as his wedding vows had.

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” he mumbled. “After all, it _was_ my fault you were late this morning.”

“Oh, Hubert,” murmured Ferdinand, and he tried to shuffle even closer, despite literally sitting on Hubert. “I’m sorry I made you feel at fault, I was just panicking. You did nothing wrong. It wouldn’t have mattered what time I arrived at the college, it wouldn’t have put the packets back into order or solved the issue of where to put the students. You…” He sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to Hubert’s forehead. “You certainly didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“But I wanted to,” Hubert said, mouth pressed against Ferdinand’s neck. “You put so much work into this college, I couldn’t stand to see it suffer-”

“Oh, beloved, it would take so much more than this to topple my dream,” said Ferdinand.

“I know,” whispered Hubert. “And I admire that so much, I admire _you_ more than I can explain. You… you have all these plans and ideas and goals and you know what you’re doing and it _works_! I spent my whole life working to see Edelgard overthrow the Church, and once she did, I… I didn’t know what to do next.”

Ferdinand lifted his chin with his thumb and smiled into his eyes, as bright and golden as the dawn.

“Thank you,” he murmured, before giving him another kiss, less ardent this time. “You know I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near this far without you. And I wouldn’t be able to go any further without you, either.”

Hubert felt his throat tighten.

“I love you,” he breathed, his heart fit to burst.

“And I love you,” replied Ferdinand, tracing his jawline with a finger.

The two met again, kissing slow and deep as Hubert let his arms wrap around his husband and drew him even closer. There was nowhere he loved being more than underneath 200 pounds of knightly majesty, whether it was in their bed or in a secluded corner of the palace gardens or, apparently, the Chair’s office of Ferdinand’s academy, and despite being in public, in _someone else’s office_ , Hubert couldn’t help how furiously he desired more. How hard he was growing in his trousers, all the desperate noises squeezed from him, how he pawed at the soft mounds of his husband’s body, up over his waistband, down to fondle his ass-

Ferdinand gasped, pulling back in a wince.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Sorry, it’s – ah – still rather sore back there.”

“Oh,” said Hubert, flushing deep. “I am sorry about that.”

But Ferdinand just laughed, resting his forehead against Hubert’s again.

“Why?” he asked, a hand tracing the cords of his neck. “You did say you’d give me whatever I wanted, did you not? You certainly delivered on your promise.”

Hubert looked away. Perhaps he’d been a little over the top last night, but it had been impossible to fight how much the night’s festivities had encouraged his adoration of his husband. Fódlan’s best and brightest milling through the palace ballrooms with the sole intent of celebrating Ferdinand von Adrestia, the tears of pure pride in Edelgard’s eyes, the open admiration of the first year of students, that formal jacket Ferdinand insisted on wearing that looked as if it was about to split open from the weight of his tits… Hubert sighed at the memory, rolling his hips up into his husband.

“Perhaps you deserve a similar promise,” Ferdinand said.

Hubert’s eyes snapped open, locking onto that cheeky grin.

“I… you…”

Ferdinand quirked an eyebrow.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Hubert said, rubbing his hand up Ferdinand’s thigh.

“I don’t _have_ to do many things,” said Ferdinand, grinding down on Hubert’s still half-hard dick. “But there are many things I would like to do. Such as treating my husband, after he worked for hours just to make things a little easier for me.”

Hubert blinked, swallowed.

“Just think about it, darling?” Ferdinand asked, voice gone softer. “I know asking for things can make you a little… apprehensive, but I would like to make you happy.”

“You always make me happy.”

“Sap.”

Hubert snorted.

“I’ve got to stay here for a little while longer to make sure everything is sorted out, but I’ll see you back home tonight,” Ferdinand continued. “In the meantime, could you think of something you’d like me to do?” He bit his lip. “I really would like to be good for you.”

Hubert huffed out a breath as he shifted his legs, dick now pressing hard against his trouser buttons.

“Alright, alright, you don’t need to lay it on quite so thick.”

Ferdinand chuckled, and for a moment Hubert just relished in the delight of seeing him happy. That single dimple on the right side of his face, the way his eyes shone in the now afternoon sunlight, the way he flushed all the way down his body, hot skin disappearing between the folds of his shirt, though Hubert knew he’d be red all the way down to his dick. But then he had to sigh and shuffle off his lap, bringing them both back to reality.

“I really should hurry up and get these envelopes to the students,” Ferdinand muttered.

Right. Students. They were in a school.

At the very least, that took care of Hubert’s boner.

“Is there anything else I can do?” he asked, standing up.

“Of course not! You’ve done far too much already,” said Ferdinand. “You need to get back to the palace and make sure it hasn’t fallen to pieces without you, worrywart.”

Hubert rolled his eyes.

“Yes, alright, I get it,” he muttered.

But nonetheless he stepped forward to press a kiss to Ferdinand’s temple.

“And… you will think about my offer, won’t you?” Ferdinand asked.

“I shall,” Hubert said into Ferdinand’s hair. “Good luck with the students.”

“And good luck to you, with whatever emergency you are afraid has arisen after stepping out for more than a second,” Ferdinand replied.

Their fingers tangled together, and Hubert left.

There was, of course, no emergency back at the palace, though Hubert found himself nonetheless relieved to have returned in time to hear his day-agents’ reports. There wasn’t much for his enormous spy network to do now that Those Who Slither in The Dark had been vanquished, so he’d sprinkled his employees into the staff of those remaining nobility who looked down on Ferdinand’s education reforms. He didn’t expect to uncover some grand conspiracy, unless prejudice could be described as such, but it was always good to be ready to sweep the rug out from under them the second the opportunity arose. Plus, it was fun to watch them squirm at the gala as they realised Hubert knew a little too much about them – not enough to suspect espionage, but enough to keep them guessing.

After the debriefing, and then taking care of a few quick queries from his current stock of apprentice “clerks”, there was, miraculously, nothing to do. Hubert found himself sitting in his office staring at the little water clock Caspar had brought back from his latest travels with Linhardt, watching the seconds drip by. Shit. He actually had time to himself. Well, fuck. He didn’t have any hobbies beside hovering awkwardly behind his friends as they enjoyed their own interests, what was he supposed to do now? He could go find Edelgard or Bernadetta and see what they were doing, but that was a little too close to pathetic for him to handle. He could make another pot of coffee, but that would just lead to him being restless and caffeinated, and he’d spent enough evenings with Ferdinand to know that was a maddening combination. Except, of course, for all those evenings where Ferdinand’s inability to sit still had yielded rather interesting results…

Maybe he should do what he promised his husband and think about what he wanted from tonight. It wouldn’t be fun for either of them if he showed up all tongue-tied and embarrassed while Ferdinand had to reassure him for the millionth time that it was fine to feel desire for the man he had been married to for nearly half a decade. Hubert rubbed his temples. Chiding himself in advance for a conversation he hadn’t had the chance to fuck up yet was not exactly getting him in the mood. Although, maybe he shouldn’t be trying to think about this in his office – people had a tendency to burst in and announce emergencies. Then again, Ferdinand hadn’t seemed to mind about crawling into his lap in the middle of his _co-worker’s_ office, those heavy thighs straddling Hubert and his tongue licking into his mouth with an urgency that would have convinced Hubert to do anything he asked. But Ferdinand’s mere existence seemed to be enough to get Hubert declaring his undying devotion and fucking him in any way he even alluded to wanting. He couldn’t help it, that luminescent smile and those bright eyes were contagious in their delight. And just the way he stood, taking up so much space with his strong arms akimbo and his barrel chest bouncing as he laughed – he was like the perfect ideal of the knights Hubert used to watch training at Garreg Mach, swearing to himself that he was simply gathering intelligence, as if he didn’t always end up slinking back to his room and panting into his pillow at the thought of such large arms wrapped around him.

And Ferdinand had only gotten more handsome as the years had gone on. Living with him since the last year of the war meant he didn’t get any further growth-spurt surprises like their class reunion had produced – and Goddess, hadn’t that been embarrassing. Hubert swore he spent the majority of their first reunited conversation staring at the slip of skin peeking out from his unbuttoned blouse instead of his face. But watching Ferdinand grow before his eyes didn’t make it any less delightful. His hair growing even longer, becoming stronger and shinier now that he wasn’t subsisting off soldier’s rations, the calluses on his hands growing a little softer, while a new callus appeared on his right middle finger, a testament to his unorthodox way of wielding a pen. The fact that he only grew stronger with his daily rides and his dedication to training the youths of Enbarr in the sparring ring, but his prominent muscle definition became nonetheless covered in a coat of soft fat that only made him more delightful to grip and squeeze and created new spots to tease until he was whining and gasping and bucking hard against-

“Hey, Hubert.”

Hubert jerked up from where he had slumped in his chair hard enough to slam his knee on the underside of his desk.

“Fuck,” he hissed, trying not to think about how the sudden jolt of pain had done nothing to quell his arousal.

“Are you alright?”

He looked up to see Bernadetta standing in his doorway, peering at him in genuine concern. At least the sight of her was like a bucket of cold water to his uncooperative dick.

“You must have been pretty deep in thought, I hope I’m not interrupting…” she said.

“No, no,” Hubert said quickly. No matter how confident she had grown in the past decade or so, he still hated making her worried.

 _Yes, that is called ‘friendship, I believe_ , a snide voice whispered in his head. Hubert blinked it away, trying not to blush at the realisation that it sounded like Ferdinand.

“You know me,” he continued, “Always overthinking something.”

Bernadetta smiled, relaxing slightly.

“Well, I hope whatever you’re overthinking doesn’t need to be addressed immediately, because Edelgard and I were about to have dinner.”

Hubert followed suit, relaxing too.

“Oh,” he smiled. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

Bernadetta spread her hands, as if looking for something.

“Why else would I be down here?”

Dinner with Bernadetta and Edelgard – and a couple of the new friends the two had made in the palace staff – ended up stretching out far longer than any meal needed to, but that was so often the case. There was just something about enjoying a quiet time with his friends that seemed like a rare treasure to be protected, making Hubert loathe to move from his seat. Of course, nowadays the only thing that prevented them from eating together every night was their schedules. It still felt too good to be true. Edelgard had once confided to him that she wished her time at Garreg Mach had been more like this, more time sitting at the loud laughing tables of the dining hall than holed up with Hubert planning the downfall of dictators. The idea that their lived reality could ever have ended up _more_ idyllic than their academy days was… it was beyond laughable.

But there it was, undeniably one of the nicest evenings of his life, with absolutely nothing spectacular about it. Just Bernadetta showing off the new hairclips she had sewn, Edelgard tossing her head in delight as they jangled above her ears, Hubert regaling everyone with tales of the sweat that beaded on the foreheads of the old guard nobility at Ferdinand’s gala, and the girls’ new friends laughing about some gossip about a man named Lachlan. Hubert had no idea what they were talking about, but found himself smiling regardless, if only at the sound of Bernadetta’s snorting laugh and the impossibly tender looks Edelgard gave her in return. Hubert would have been content to stay there forever, slowly making his way through the Imperial liquor cabinet until he hit the floor, but in actuality he only made it through two gin and tonics before Bernadetta announced that she had to go feed her beetles, and the dinner party broke up.

It seemed like just an instant and then Hubert was standing back in front of the door with the little brass plaque that read ‘F. & H. v. Adrestia’. Had he been a different sort of person, perhaps he would be wearing a rather goofy grin. But as it stood, he pushed open the door with the same stoic face as ever, if a somewhat foggy mind. Their sitting room was dark, and his first thought was to wonder if Ferdinand was still stuck at the college, if he should rush back and get back to work. So many more things could have gone wrong while he was off playing tea party with Edelgard. What if he’d only made the envelopes more confused? What if there had been some sort of conflict instigated by the anti-reform nobility?

“Hello, sweetheart.”

But no, Ferdinand was there. Sitting in his armchair, beside a single lit lamp, one leg resting on the opposite knee and a book in hand. Hubert felt his whole body relax at the sight of him, and then a little spike of heat flare when he realised what he was wearing. He must have gotten back to the palace quite a while ago, as his hair – tied up into a luscious ponytail – was still damp. And he mustn’t have dined with anyone after his bath, either, for he was wearing nothing but his navy smalls and his shirtsleeves. Hubert felt his heart race as Ferdinand put the book aside, rose and revealed just which shirt he was wearing. One Hubert had long grumbled about, it was entirely too small for him. Although the puffiness of the sleeves meant he could still get his arms through it, he couldn’t quite lace it up anymore, the lower half of the shirt clinging to his abdomen and the upper half trying valiantly to contain the pecs that strained at the laces and looked close to splitting the seams.

He had never quite minded that Ferdinand had never been able to throw it away for good. 

Hubert cleared his throat, did his best to meet Ferdinand’s eyes.

“I hope the rest of your day went smoothly,” he said, voice stiff.

“Oh, it most assuredly did,” said Ferdinand, advancing on him like a hunter on his prey. “This delightful young man showed up and fixed all of our mismatched paperwork, put the whole day back on track.”

He stretched his arms up, reaching to encircle Hubert’s neck, but Hubert found himself fixating on how the motion shifted the muscles of his chest, bunching together his pecs into tighter mounds, straining at the supposedly loose laces of his shirt, slipping just far enough up to give Hubert the barest glimpse of a nipple.

Hubert licked his lips.

“Young man?” he asked. “I had best make sure to keep him away from you, then, you lecherous old man.”

“Oh?” said Ferdinand. Ever so slowly he bent his knee, trailing it up the inside of Hubert’s legs. “Are you quite sure I’m the lecherous one here?”

Eyes fluttering at the motion, Hubert curled an arm around Ferdinand’s waist.

“Well, I am the only one still dressed.”

“And what a shame that is,” Ferdinand pouted.

Then he gave a mock gasp, leaning away from his husband in the perfect picture of the scandalised maiden, hand to mouth and everything. And people said _Hubert_ had a flare for the dramatic.

“Unless you would prefer to remain clothed while you have your way with me, entirely bare to your every desire…”

“Ferdinand,” said Hubert, some of the tension finally gone in the wake of such antics.

“Oh, come on,” said Ferdinand. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

Hubert pulled him closer, buried his head in the crook of that broad neck.

“I’ve thought about _everything_ with you,” he murmured.

Ferdinand’s awkward grunt of a breath at that sounded practically naked in its authenticity, compared to his nonsense earlier.

“Do you-” Ferdinand paused to take a laughing breath “-Would you like to head to bed, my dear? Unless, of course, you’d like to have some fun out here on the table, or the rug…”

“For the last time, I am not fucking you on a bearskin,” Hubert snapped, giving Ferdinand a slap to the ass. “It’s hard enough getting cum out of _you_ , let alone antique fur.”

“Aw,” Ferdinand whined, already dancing to the bedroom door. “But just think of how handsome I’d look, all laid out for you like that…”

“You’d look like a woodcut in a banned book, and not a good one,” Hubert replied, crowding him against the door.

For a moment they simply hung in silence, eyes locked. Then Hubert pushed down on the handle and herded his husband inside, slamming him back against the door the second it was shut.

“I prefer to see you in my bed, where you belong,” he said.

Ferdinand’s hips rolled forward at his voice, a low noise escaping from the back of his throat, another one quickly following suit as Hubert gripped at his hips.

“You…” Hubert started, but his voice was too tight to continue, too strung out on his own desire and the embarrassment it always brought with it. He’d hoped he’d be past this by his age, but some things, he was learning, took a lot longer to unlearn than they did to learn in the first place.

Ferdinand lifted a hand to his hair, lacing thick fingers through sweaty curls. The kiss he placed on Hubert’s cheek was painfully sweet.

“It’s alright, darling,” he whispered. “Talk to me.”

Hubert took a breath, nodded, in a familiar gesture that Ferdinand had quickly learnt meant, ‘I’m listening to you, but I need a moment’.

He shed his coat, gloves, vest, boots and trousers in motions far more efficient than erotic, but Ferdinand let him. Let him ground himself in familiar routine as Ferdinand moved to recline on their bed. Hubert hoped he was making himself comfortable, because as riled up as he’d been nearly all day, he wasn’t likely to let him up for air any time soon. The second he was down to as little clothing as Ferdinand was, he clambered up onto the bed in a fashion that had to make him look like an oversized spider. But Ferdinand didn’t seem to mind. He just leant back into the pillows, letting himself lie at a slight angle as Hubert came to straddle him, fix him with a gaze that he hoped was enough to show his ardour.

“Hello, you,” Ferdinand smiled.

“Hey,” croaked Hubert, hovering over him.

And that was so awkward, so silly, so _Hubert_ that he knew Ferdinand would have to laugh. So he didn’t begrudge him the twinkling in his eye or the dimple in his cheek, but he did have to surge down and sweep him into a kiss. Bunch his fists beside Ferdinand’s head as he dragged his teeth across his lower lip, groaning at the tight embrace Ferdinand pulled him into, rocking his hips hard against the panting mess beneath him… Hubert licked the roof of Ferdinand’s mouth and then bit down hard just below his jawline. Had to keep him guessing – a cocky Ferdinand was… Well, a cocky Ferdinand was an absolute fucking delight, just like a shy Ferdinand or an emotional Ferdinand or a well-fucked and sleepy Ferdinand.

“Fuck, I want you,” Hubert breathed.

“Yeah?” Ferdinand panted, his arms stretching out above his head in a wonderfully hedonistic slide. “Tell me what you want, beloved.”

Hubert sucked a dark bruise into the side of Ferdinand’s neck, drinking in his sighs and his sweat alike. Squeezed his sides, bucked hard against him.

“I want…”

He sighed, dropping his head to rest against the open split of his shirt. Shit. The only thing worse than the shame of being laughed at would be missing out on something he wanted only because of his cowardice. So he drew his left hand up his husband’s side until it cupped his breast and squeezed tight. He heaved a shaking sigh at the feel of the soft flesh yielding to his touch, how it pillowed and bounced, the delightful heat of it against his tongue as he pressed his mouth between his shirtlaces, chasing whatever pleasure he could find.

“I’m always thinking about your tits,” he mumbled against fluffy chest hair.

“Oh?” Ferdinand’s leg had slipped up to fit around Hubert’s, drawing him closer and preventing escape. Hubert hoped the teasing in his voice was just a continuation of their earlier banter and not a reflex to diffuse an embarrassing moment.

“Mm,” Hubert continued. “I watch them when you walk – sometimes I swear you do it on purpose, a heavier stride to make them bob beneath your shirt, make me think about how they bounce when you sit on my cock. Fuck, if you want to guarantee getting your way in a cabinet meeting, you just need to do that thing where you toss your hair back.”

Ferdinand snorted, but his breath was coming shorter.

“Why’s that?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Hubert grumbled. “You push your shoulders back and it makes your chest fucking…” He panted, rutting against Ferdinand’s thigh. “I swear you popped a button in a meeting with the Faerghus council, once. I had to jack off in the damn broom closet.”

“You really-”

“You know exactly what you do to me,” Hubert growled, both his hands squeezing his tits now. “That time you wanted to go with me to Vestra county so you went for your morning ride _shirtless_ and had the gall to say it was because it was hot out-”

“It was high summer!”

“You hypnotised me,” Hubert hissed. “I could think of nothing else until I finally got you riding me instead, longest wait for a lunchtime quickie of my _life_.”

Ferdinand laughed, loud and bright, gripping the back of Hubert’s head as if he might otherwise float away.

“I… I’m not laughing at you, my dear,” he clarified quickly, though there was still that same sparkle of a laugh in his voice. “I just… Well, I fear you have overestimated my abilities as a manipulator.”

“Alright,” huffed Hubert. “I’ll admit that some of those moments could have been mere coincidence, but this?”

He knelt back, surging forward with both his hands to shove Ferdinand’s tits up toward his collarbone, a perfect cleft of cleavage forming, deep enough to swallow Hubert’s thumbs in the heat of his breast.

“You know what you’re doing with this damned shirt.”

Ferdinand laughed again, but was quickly cut short with a gasp as Hubert yanked at his shirt lacings, trapping his tits high and tight against his ribcage, hemmed in and straining against the lacings hard enough to leave grooves in the flesh.

“Ah! Hubert…”

Hubert raised an eyebrow at how breathless his husband sounded.

“Having regrets already?”

Ferdinand whined, biting his lip and squirming beneath the sharp weight of Hubert’s hip.

“Oh, _hardly_ ,” he moaned. “Fuck, Hubert!”

Hubert pulled harder at the nipple he had pinched through the shirt, relishing in how Ferdinand thrusted up against him, at how taut the fabric was, leaving absolutely no room for give.

“Please, I can’t,” Ferdinand panted. “I can’t take the teasing…”

“Sorry, lovely,” Hubert murmured, rubbing his thumb in circles over Ferdinand’s chest. “I’ll move somewhere more exciting for you-”

“No!” Ferdinand cried, gripping Hubert’s wrist and pressing his hands harder against his pecs. “I told you, I wanted to do whatever you like tonight. And if you want to spend all night feeling me up, then I only ask that you grope me hard enough that you feel my tits in hand for days to come.”

“Don’t say grope,” muttered Hubert, despite the stutter of his hips. “Makes me sound like some cur at a bar.”

Ferdinand snorted.

“Fondle?” he offered. The hand on Hubert’s began to stroke back and forth, guiding Hubert into returning his earlier motions.

“Also rather distasteful,” Hubert managed, despite the truly fascinating distraction of watching the spring and bounce of Ferdinand’s tits as he flexed his fingers around them.

“Well, you know what word you do like?” Ferdinand asked.

“Hm?” Hubert asked, hardly listening as he watched the seams of Ferdinand’s shirt strain when he pushed his tits even closer together.

“Fuck,” announced Ferdinand with a little grin.

“Yes, I must admit I am rather fond of that one,” Hubert replied.

For some reason Ferdinand pinched his thigh for that.

“Ow,” muttered Hubert.

“I am _trying_ to tell you to fuck my tits, you incorrigible creature,” Ferdinand snapped.

“Oh,” said Hubert. He blinked. “ _Oh_.”

Ferdinand rolled his eyes, but Hubert barely had the chance to see it, occupied as he was in diving to kiss his husband, hard and urgent. Pumping his hips down against his hard cock, one hand fisting in his hair while the other remained to squeeze at his chest. Hubert panted hard against his swollen lips as he forced himself to part from him, to look him in the eyes.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Hubert,” Ferdinand replied, looking awfully smug for someone with a lip split just from the urgency of a kiss. “It’s hardly the most unorthodox thing we’ve done.”

“Now, there’s a list I’d like to review,” Hubert murmured, before capturing Ferdinand’s tongue in another quick kiss. “I have half a mind to rip this shirt off you,” he continued, toying with the laces in question. “But then I wouldn’t get to see you in something so delightfully tight anymore.”

“Oh, please, destroy this ratty old thing,” Ferdinand replied. “Give me an excuse to get some new clothes tailored. Ones that won’t ever leave the bedroom.”

Hubert’s breath caught at the thought of his husband designing, commissioning, being fitted for shirts solely for the purpose of fucking Hubert while wearing them.

“Alright, well, that’s… Fuck.” Hubert let out a little huff of a laugh. “My hands are shaking.”

“Are you alright?” Ferdinand asked, sitting up.

“Don’t worry,” Hubert replied, his hands trailing to partake in the foolproof distraction that was cupping Ferdinand’s dick through his smallclothes. “You just… always get me going.”

Ferdinand smiled, managing to look nothing but tender despite the way he was rubbing off against Hubert’s hand.

“Maybe leave the bodice ripping for another day, then,” he said, and before Hubert could argue, began plucking his laces loose again.

Hubert watched as his tits relaxed from their firm peaks, and then felt his breath catch as Ferdinand took in a deep, relieved breath and his chest swelled with the motion, sending his tits spilling out to his sides.

“Are you alright if I take this off, dear?” Ferdinand asked. “It is a bit too tight for me to be performing any strenuous activity in.”

“Of course,” Hubert replied, already tugging the shirt free of his smalls.

But then his hands were knocked out of the way by the motion of Ferdinand pulling the shirt up over his head, so Hubert went to unlace his own breeches instead, only to have himself knocked about again as Ferdinand pawed at the buttons of his shirt, pressed his body into Hubert’s and his mouth up against his. And then they were just kissing as usual, hands grabbing at whatever bare slip of skin they could get ahold of, pulling at clothes to reveal more flesh to grip, to kiss and suck and bite down hard into, Hubert’s earlier embarrassment fading in the wake of such familiar comforts. He breathed hard against Ferdinand’s neck, rolling his hips against his stomach as his husband pulled his breeches down, gasping at the feel of soft skin against his aching cock.

“Darling,” he gasped, bucking up harder and smearing precum across Ferdinand’s strong stomach.

“Whatever you want,” Ferdinand replied, hands gripping his ass tight. “Just, wait-”

Hubert paused in his motions, though his whole body shook at the effort.

“Let me-” Ferdinand pressed a quick kiss to his sternum “-Let me get my smalls off.”

Hubert clambered off his husband, realising belatedly that he had been nearly kneeing him in the dick the entire time, and let the adrenaline carry him over to his bedside table, where he began rooting around for lube as clumsily as a newborn foal. He hoped he hadn’t seemed so desperate last night, when he had been so determined to make everything as perfect for Ferdinand as he could. But, at the same time, the fog of arousal was beginning to dull his anxiety. Would it really be the end of the world if his husband thought him desperate for his cock, willing to do anything to be the perfect little pet?

He snatched up one of their three in-progress bottles of lube and scrambled back to his husband, kicking his breeches off as he went. Ferdinand opened his mouth to say something – from the look of his lidded eyes no doubt something filthy – but Hubert cut him off with a press of his lips, a hand firm against his stomach as he straddled him once again. Ferdinand opened for him, leaning back at a slight angle that left most of his body flat but his head propped on the pillows as Hubert kissed him deep, lulling him into a hedonistic comfort as he warmed the lube in his hands.

When he finally let his slick fingers trail up Ferdinand’s sternum, his husband let out a sound light and high and stuttered, and Hubert ached to hear it again.

“Too cold?” he asked nonetheless, as Ferdinand twisted his face away to grimace against the pillow.

Ferdinand gasped again as Hubert’s fingers swept back down, his chest pushing up against Hubert’s hands.

“Yes, but…!” Hubert felt Ferdinand’s cock twitch against his kneeling thigh. “But I- I quite like it… after a fashion.”

Hubert panted at the sight of his husband squirming beneath him.

“Oh?” he asked, and let a single finger brush his right nipple.

Ferdinand seized, gripped the blankets either side of him, and moaned loud enough for half the palace to hear him.

“Hubert, darling, _please-_ ”

“Of course,” Hubert whispered, and bent close to Ferdinand’s body.

His husband’s cries of delight were like jolts of pure energy to Hubert’s cock, he couldn’t help but find himself mirroring all those little sounds of ecstasy as he let his hands roam, cupping those soft tits in hand and brushing thumbs over nipples. Though the goal was, ostensibly, to spread enough lube over Ferdinand’s chest to let Hubert fuck his cleavage, he wasn’t above having a little fun as he did so. His mouth soon followed in the wake of his hands, and together they let out opposite groans – Ferdinand high and Hubert low – as Hubert affixed his lips to Ferdinand’s nipple and began to suck. He was so heavy against Hubert’s tongue. Smooth and taut skin giving way to the scrape of Hubert’s teeth. The fur of his chest hair tickling against Hubert’s nose, the thrusting cries that accompanied each firm suck to hardening flesh, it was almost too much. Hubert pulled back, watching the spit from his mouth join the lube to make Ferdinand’s chest glisten.

Still slick with lube, Hubert’s hands returned to knead at his tits immediately. His thumbs dug into the inner sides of those lovely Aegir hills, and Hubert found himself massaging his husband’s pecs. He pressed in deep, found the hard muscle beneath that bouncing flesh, and rolled it slow and hard in circles, Ferdinand’s groaning growing ever deeper. He jumped to a high yelp when Hubert slapped his left tit, just to watch it bounce, but Hubert wasn’t here to be _cruel_ , and his voice returned to the mellow gasps of delight as Hubert kissed away the sting.

“Fuck, Hubert,” Ferdinand gasped. “If you insist on so thoroughly… _unh_ … if you… I forgot what I was going to say but if you keep this up, I won’t have what little brainpower I require to hold them up for you.”

Hubert let his hands trail down to grip the sides of Ferdinand’s waist. He raised his eyebrows, genuinely curious instead of teasing.

“Hold them up?” he asked.

Ferdinand blinked up at him. He cupped his hands around the lower swell of his tits, his thumbs curving around to support the sides as he pressed them up and together, hot flesh bulging between his fingers as he formed a deep cavity.

“For you to fuck,” he offered.

Hubert’s head dropped as he whined, hips stuttering against nothing.

“You- you good if I-?” he stuttered, shuffling forward so his knees were pressed up against Ferdinand’s armpits.

“Yeah,” Ferdinand breathed.

Hubert pulled a few quick strokes of lube onto his cock, felt his face flush with the realisation of how close he was after just playing with some tits. It wasn’t even as if he hadn’t been able to play with them before. Maybe it was just the fact that Ferdinand was willing to let him focus solely on them, without the expectation of anything else tonight. Hubert would feel guilty, but…

Ferdinand grinned up at him, sweat beading his hairline, and gave a little wink.

Hubert bent to kiss him, the two grinning against each other as Hubert guided his cock to fit between Ferdinand’s tits. He gasped, mouth slipping against Ferdinand’s, at the feel of the plush heat surrounding him. His hips thrusted seemingly of their own accord and Hubert pushed in deeper until his dick was held firmly in place by Ferdinand’s tits, his head pushing out to rest in the dip of his collarbone. Ferdinand sighed in pleasure.

“You want it tighter?” he asked.

And before Hubert could reply, could even understand what was being offered, Ferdinand pressed his tits tighter together. Hubert felt his head pitch forward, his husband’s teasing drawing him out on a white-hot wire, and Ferdinand began to knead his tits back and forth, pressing into his dick at so many different locations.

“Fuck,” gasped Hubert.

He couldn’t help it, he had to start thrusting or else he felt like he would explode. Just the feel of his frenulum catching against the edge of Ferdinand’s tits as he drew back was so much. It reminded him of how Ferdinand was always so reticent to release his cockhead when sucking him off, how if Hubert wanted to pull out before he was done, his frenulum would stutter over Ferdinand’s lips, glossy and pouting as he fixed him with those damn eyes. Now, though, the eyes were different. Hubert couldn’t tear himself away from them as he fucked against Ferdinand’s chest – the way they sparkled with mischief as he pulsed his hands against his tits, creating some kind of heartbeat of pressure against Hubert’s dick, the way he seemed to lean forward every time Hubert made a noise, as if he were chasing them. Hubert looked close, desperate to find any kind of dissatisfaction, any clue as to how he could make this better for his husband, and found none.

“Yeah,” he ground out, not in response to anything, just because most other words seemed to have deserted him.

“You like it, darling?” Ferdinand asked, breathless himself. “My tits giving way to you, your cock forcing between them?”

Hubert shuddered, making some garbled mess of agreeing noises.

“Did you think of this? When you saw me training in the heat of summer with my chest covered in sweat-” Ferdinand grunted as Hubert thrusted harder “-Did you think of grabbing my tits, of fucking me?”

Hubert made another noise.

“Speak up,” said Ferdinand, that voice so steadfast and strong, grounding Hubert through anything.

“I did,” Hubert rasped.

One of his hands lifted from the bed to paw at Ferdinand, grind the heel of his palm into one of those mounds and watch him squirm.

“When I go riding and you watch me come in, your eyes on me like nothing could tear you away-”

Hubert’s hand slipped back to the bed, the angle defeating him as he tried to stay steady on his knees, incapable of slowing his hard thrusts against Ferdinand.

“-Do your eyes slip to my chest?” Ferdinand continued. “Do you watch the way I rise and fall in the saddle and notice how parts of me linger in the air longer than the rest, how they bounce when I land?”

Hubert whined, his face now pressed above Ferdinand’s head into the pillow still worse for wear after last night, and yet duty still forced him to reply.

“Yes.”

But Ferdinand wasn’t letting up, not on rubbing his tits against Hubert’s aching cock, and not on drawing his fantasies to the fore.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you looked at me last night,” he continued, no time for Hubert to breathe. “Your hand may have been at my hips but I could see your eyes fixed on my chest, how you longed for me to stretch just a little too far and pop my breast buttons, my tits spilling out into a broad shelf for you to bury your face in.”

Hubert whined. He’d lost track of whether there was a question in there.

“Yes.”

“Really, darling, isn’t it only fair that you get to enjoy them in our bed?” Ferdinand purred. “Ask for them whenever you like, and perhaps when I see you salivating across the room, you won’t look quite so much like a starving puppy.”

“Yes,” Hubert breathed.

“Are you quite sure you know what you’re agreeing to?” Ferdinand laughed, so genuinely loving. “I’m telling you to ask for tits in hand when you want them.”

“Yes, sir!” gasped Hubert.

He was so close, but he couldn’t warn Ferdinand, couldn’t interrupt him.

“Ask to suck them when I ride you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Grab them from behind when you press my face into the mattress.” Ferdinand’s own voice was losing its stability. “I want bitemarks on my nipples, I want you cumming with your face between my tits, I want-”

Hubert cried out, thrust to the hilt, and came, hips pumping through his orgasm, all care gone from his movement as he dragged his spilling cock across Ferdinand’s chest. He moaned, open and wanton in a way he could never allow himself to be when he was thinking properly. It took him a while of fuzzing white noise in his ear before he realised that Ferdinand was speaking, and a little while longer to begin to decode the words.

“-So good, darling, oh look at you, aren’t you just perfect for me-”

Hubert pressed his burning cheeks deeper into the pillow, and then realised that thing digging into his stomach was Ferdinand’s shoulder, sprawled as he was over his husband. With truly herculean strength – the kind he could only possess when trying to make things better for Ferdinand – Hubert managed to roll off him, landing sprawled on his back with eyes unsure if they were open or closed.

Was that face leaning over him really there, or just an afterimage of his besotted heart?

Well, that hand rubbing his stomach had to be real. The kind of comfort that came from a tender hand after losing himself was never one he could ever properly imagine, especially not when Ferdinand was nestling against his side, shifting his hips so they were both on their side, facing the same direction, with Ferdinand’s heart beating time against Hubert’s back.

“I love you,” Ferdinand murmured.

Hubert let out a hoarse kind of squeak, grasping for Ferdinand’s draped hand. He let himself take a moment, breath slow, let himself slowly recognise the world around him once again. It was a technique they had worked on together during the war, when battle frenzy would have them crashing together in something less than healthy and then lost in their own minds in the aftermath, but they still occasionally needed to use it in peacetime. It was always the strangest things that got to you, Hubert had noticed. Like a certain cadence of footsteps, or scraping cutlery. Or finally getting what you wanted and realising you could have asked for it all this time.

“Thank you,” he stuttered out eventually.

Ferdinand hummed, low and adoring as he stroked through the trail of hair on Hubert’s lower belly.

“I should say the same to you,” he said.

“Why?” asked Hubert. His tongue still felt a little leaden.

Ferdinand laughed, the movement making his still-hard cock drag against Hubert’s ass in a way that was more arousing than expected.

“Well, it’s not every day you’re so… vocal,” Ferdinand replied. “Especially regarding your thoughts on my appearance.”

“How beautiful I think you are, you mean?” Hubert replied immediately.

Ferdinand pulled him closer, nuzzled his head into his neck. As he hummed in surprisingly shy pleasure, Hubert realised from the heat of his face that he had to be blushing. Oh, now he absolutely had to call for a repeat performance. But not yet. Not while Ferdinand was rubbing up against him, so delighted and breathless.

“You’re still hard,” Hubert said finally, the bob of his husband’s erection pressing against his behind.

“I am,” replied Ferdinand, as besotted as if he was already in the afterglow. “Anything you’d like to do now?”

“Whatever you want,” Hubert replied. “Whatever you want, and it’s my favourite thing in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have been having kind of a Rough One lately, I'd appreciate your support in the form of any critique or comment you might have in my eternal quest to be a better writer, and, if you're in a position to be generous to creative strangers on the internet, any support you might be able to offer in a specific link in [ my twitter bio](https://twitter.com/commanderfreddy) which I cannot mention directly bc of the ao3 ToS would be appreciated with all my heart.   
> Thanks team.


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